Prediction
by pagesinthewind
Summary: Kurt is a psychic who gave up a long time ago. Blaine is an enemy soldier who wants nothing more than to love this broken boy he's found. Will Kurt let him in, or will he use him just long enough to escape?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note/Disclaimer: No I don't own Glee, yes this is a really weird idea I had... No I don't know what I was thinking and yes you should review .

This is rated T because it's not very graphic, maybe a bit angsty, but personally I don't think it'll reach an M rating (probably not even T, but I'm paranoid!).

Also don't own the lyrics from "I will Follow You Into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie.

**One:**

A precious gift from the gods, that's what they'd all called him. But it never felt like that to him, they didn't bother keeping their gift happy, sure he was always going to be kept safe, but he yearned for so much more. He wanted true glory. Not to be locked up and constantly used for the knowledge he wished he didn't posses. The knowledge that hurt him so much to access. To them it was a "gift" to him it was a curse.

The boy sat in his dingy room, his prison cell, his small frame propped up against the wall, fingers idly tracing the scars on his arm. He'd received one for each of the battles lost during his imprisonment, along with all of the ones on his back, a reminder of every life he'd lost his people. His eyes were closed and he was humming quietly to himself, a haunting tune that helped to ease the aching in his skull.

Three loud knocks on his door interrupted his small reprieve. He immediately hopped to his feet, not wanting to be found in his relaxed position, not wanting to show his captors any signs of weakness. "Tell me what you see!" a harsh voice barked at him for the millionth time in his life. He no longer tried to fight or resist, he no longer considered lying or twisting the truth. He had learned from every mistake, he had earned many scars and hurt many loved ones trying to resist. But he'd learned his lesson. There was always something left to lose.

He closed his eyelids over two crystal blue irises and let the throbbing take over. He let the painful visions rip through his mind tearing at the inside of his skull, but he no longer sobbed at the searing pain, at least he'd learned how to hold it in until he was alone again. A simple hiss of pain was all that escaped him and he answered, in a voice as crystalline as his eyes, "They're planning an ambush. Tomorrow night. Coming from the east. They're going to try to break in. They want someone, probably His Highness. Only two dozen men, they think it's going to be discrete. They've got a new Captain, he's young, dark hair, watch out for him, sir."

"That it?" The scratchy voice asked.

"For now." The twinkling voice replied.

The man left without another word as always, and as always as soon as his door was locked again, the boy collapsed onto the ground and delicately held his aching skull in his hands. After a few painful sobs and swallows of air he began his humming, placing his forehead against the cool tile beneath him, and let the world fade.

...

On the outskirts of the gifted boys kingdom a small army of approximately two dozen men approached, led by their new leader, a young man with dark hair and eyes the color of honey.

There were stories about their enemy nation. Deals with the devil, witch craft, demons. All he knew was that somehow they were able to predict every move his people planned, anticipating every strike and blocking it, even using their own ideas against them. Of course in the beginning every suspected spy was hanged, but eventually that began to work against them, seeing as their enemy was still always one step ahead and they'd lost a lot of decent men.

So for his first act as Captain he was going to steal their rumored secret weapon. He'd even set up a secret plan from all of his own men, who thought they'd be attacking from the west, when in reality he was going to change it at the last possible moment and have them attack from the east.

At the very lest he'd finally be able to safely rule out spies once and for all.

...

The ambush would begin soon and the blue eyed boy cursed his luck for the millionth time that day. He hated his life, he wanted to be normal to be able to go out and fight with the rest of the boys his age, he wanted to put his life at risk. To know what true fear felt like, he wanted to actually see all of the blood and cartilage, not just the images he got in his head. He wanted to really see it, smell it, feel it.

Because sometimes he didn't feel quite real, sometimes he wondered if he'd just imagined his family, sometimes he hoped he had. Then it wouldn't be his fault that they'd killed his mother because he didn't want to see the future because it hurt his head. Then his younger brother wouldn't have been sent to battle three years before his 17th birthday, everyone else got to wait, but not the boy with a freak for a brother, a stupid freak who thought he could get away with a lie because then maybe they'd think he'd lost his powers and let him go home. At least they hadn't killed him, directly at least, he still wasn't sure Finn had even survived his first battle. No one ever answered his questions, they just demoted his father, one of their best fighters, when his son asked too many questions.

Tired of thinking about the past and being forced to envision the future he tried to imagine the present. It was dark outside as it had been in his prediction so the ambush could begin any moment now. He thought about the new enemy captain, pictured him leading the way for his men, dark hair a mess, thick eyebrows drawn together in a scowl easily slashing his way through the enemy. Then he pictured himself there, he pictured himself as a trained warrior, strong and brave like his father, he'd tear the smaller man apart, he'd stop the enemies advance and get all of the glory he'd ever wanted. He would be worshiped for his bravery, because he would be brave. Not the coward he was now huddled safely in his personal prison, too scared to do anything, but what he was told.

Sometimes he wished he were brave enough to die, to kill himself. He thought maybe one day he would be because his was the only future he couldn't see, maybe it was because he didn't have one.

...

They were all set up and ready to go on the east side, his men had mumbled about their new captain's fickleness, but gone along with it faithfully.

They were moments away from launching the attack, which would ultimately be a distraction for their Captain to go steal himself a secret weapon, when the tables turned and the enemy was surrounding them and battle cries broke the delicate night air, riping through the soft melody of a midnight forest and piercing it with screams of pain and bloody murder. And he was gladly fighting beside his men when one of them pushed him away and hissed for him to finish the job.

So reluctantly he detached himself from the foray and sneaked away to try to complete the mission alone, it wasn't quite according to plan, but then again he'd never been very fond of such things. Believe it or not he rather preferred it when things didn't go according to plan, beneath his professional crisp uniform lived a thrill seeking man. So he revelled in his task of single handedly evading the few guards left to watch the castle and messing with a few of them, throwing sticks and stones just for the hell of it.

...

Meanwhile, the blue-eyed boy felt a stabbing pain shoot through his head and took a moment to peek at the shifting future before calmly going to knock on his door three times. Sometimes he didn't notice the shift until it was too late, those were some of the scars on his arms, so he dully hoped that this wouldn't be one of those times, it'd been quite a while since his last scaring, but he didn't need another reminder of the pointlessness of his existence.

So the man with the scratchy voice and dark scraggly beard appeared at the door and the boy relayed the shift, telling him that despite their efforts one man would or possibly already had entered the walls of the castle. The man barked an insult at the boy and left him to go alert someone who could actually do something about it.

The boy sighed and resumed his humming.

Sometimes if you asked the scraggly man about the boy he'd compliment his singing before he could help himself, but sometimes he'd say he'd have preferred a future-seeing mirror of fountain or something that you didn't need to feed and hear whining all the time, sometimes he'd just sigh.

...

Now from previous attacks and reconnaissance the Captain had figured an idea of where he'd need to be headed. Obviously the most guarded rooms in the place were the Ruler's chambers, so he figured it would only make sense if their secret weapon was in the second most guarded room, which just so happened to be where he was headed when he heard a man shouting in the distance about an intruder and heard footsteps headed his way. So he retreated in the opposite direction of his destination down an eerily deserted corridor.

He would only find one guard down this way, just one sleepily swaying as he lost himself in the soft melody of the boys voice. It wasn't like anyone even really knew what the purpose of the boy was, just a select few, all the guard knew was that he'd stood in front of this door for the past six years and nothing had ever happened, so he let himself doze.

And then the Captain heard the humming, a haunting tune, soft and sweet and tortured, and he was drawn to it. So, daring as he was feeling, he simply slipped right by the swaying guard and entered the abnormally unlocked room and the humming abruptly stopped as the boy scrambled to his feet. No one ever entered his room without knocking first. And he recognized the man from his visions, the seasoned warrior who could kill him a hundred different ways with his bare hands.

The room was dead silent as the Captain locked eyes with the angelic beauty before him, staring into perfect crystal eyes, perfect pale skin marred by scars that this poor creature should have never had to feel.

He whispered, he didn't want to break the spell or scare the kid more than he obviously already was so he whispered, because it was necessary in his state of awe, "I'm Anderson, Blaine Anderson."

...

_Love of mine someday you will die_

_But I'll be close behind_

_I'll follow you into the dark _


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Don't expect me to update this quickly again .

Also you should expect this to be about four chapters when it's done.

Thank you for reading =]

**Two:**

His heart was pounding in his chest, he didn't know what to do. They'd always told him he'd be safe, that was the only promise they'd ever made him, that he'd be safe. Yet here was this enemy leader standing before him no doubt about to kill him. He wasn't safe. He wasn't strong. He wasn't brave. He was terrified.

Sure only hours before he'd been imagining himself some great hero, having defeated the man who now stood before him, but this was reality, the first reality he'd experienced in years and it scared him.

The rest of his life had always just felt like he was floating helplessly through a dream, maybe this was a nightmare, maybe this could wake him up.

He cringed when he heard the man whisper his name. He took a step back and the man looked sad.

"Are you okay?" He whispered again, still feeling the need to whisper. The boy didn't respond. "What's your name?"

No one had cared what his name was in so long, he couldn't help it as it tumbled off his lips, whispered in an elegant pitch, feeling foreign on his tongue after so many years of disuse, "Kurt Hummel, sir." It was a bad habit, everyone was sir or he'd get a good smack.

"Blaine's fine," the man replied with a smile he couldn't suppress. "What are you doing here?"

Kurt thought about this. Perhaps he wasn't here to kill him, he didn't seem to know that he was the reason so many of his men had died. Maybe, maybe, he could use him, maybe this man could help him escape he was obviously very skilled, he had managed to get into the castle, maybe he could get them out. "Help me," he squeaked before he could stop himself.

Blaine's heart just about broke when he heard the quiet plea, of course he would rescue this boy. He just needed the secret weapon first. So he asked the boy about it.

Kurt cursed his luck, he clenched his teeth and thought about what the future would hold if he told the man he didn't know anything about any secret weapons, just a quick peak that was only mildly painful, showed him that Blaine would get himself caught searching for the imaginary item, whatever he thought it was. Kurt wasn't sure where he'd be at the end of this scenario, but he imagined it couldn't be good. So he tried to think about his options. The only thing that came to mind was to lie. So he did. For the first time since he'd gotten his brother tossed into battle he lied.

"You're not going to find it tonight, but if you help me I will return the favor."

Blaine stared long and hard at Kurt, he could hear the desperation in his voice and he couldn't help, but trust such an angelic face. He knew he was supposed to get the secret weapon or die trying, but he couldn't for the life of him imagine not saving the blue-eyed boy who stood fragile and vulnerable and beautiful before him.

...

For the first time in twelve long years Kurt breathed in actual fresh air.

Kurt was panting from the exertion, he hadn't had much opportunity or purpose for exercise in his small room, he wasn't sure he could recall ever walking this far in his entire life.

...

Blaine had had no trouble leading him out of the castle, easily dodging every guard even with a clumsy boy holding tightly to one of his hands. In fact he quite enjoyed the contact, he had deemed it necessary while they were passing through all of the guards, he hadn't wanted to lose him in there, but the moment they were safely outside Kurt had dropped his hand and it startled him how much he missed the feel of the boys soft hand in his own.

...

Blaine tried to lead the way, but often found himself distracted by the boy who was walking slightly ahead of him, seeming to know the direction they were headed anyway, he didn't stop to wonder how Kurt was so sure of where he was headed, he just stared at the boy determinedly headed farther and farther away from everything he knew.

Questions bubbled up inside of Blaine, not suspicion, just a general curiosity. He wanted to know why they'd locked this boy up, what was so dangerous about this delicate looking boy, why would he warrant a personal cell and guard? Kurt didn't look like a prisoner of war, his pale skin and blue eyes were both definite indicators that he was from this kingdom, maybe he'd turned traitor, but then why were they keeping him alive? Blaine's head was spinning and the smooth curve of Kurt's jaw and the tongue wetting his dry lips didn't help his focus.

"Ask."

Blaine was startled again by the voice, surely Kurt was a fallen angel, that would certainly explain some things... "What?" He wondered stupidly.

"I know you're curious, so stop staring at me and making assumptions and just ask."

"I-I...umm," the man stuttered, he was Captain, he motivated his men into battle all the time, he was strong and proud and brave so why couldn't he even manage to form a coherent thought.

The boy sighed, breathy and delicate, it sounded like steam hitting smooth glass, it sounded soft and cold, it made Blaine's heart do something very strange. "You want to know why I was in that room, you're wondering what's so special about a stupid little thing like me, you're wondering what I've done to be locked up, but not killed..." He trailed off throwing a bored glance in Blaine's direction, silently asking if he was close, but saying not to bother answering because he knew he was right.

Kurt was surprised at how easy it was to just talk, to glare at the man and to let the frustration boil over as sarcasm and snippy-ness. Walking and talking at the same time was making him pant, his legs were sore and his heart was audibly pounding in his skull, but he didn't want to stop. He needed to be away, safe again. He almost wanted to go back when he thought about his brother and father, but he didn't think he could. He wasn't that brave, he wanted to be safe. He wasn't sure he knew what safe was anymore.

He glared at Blaine when he didn't immediately respond and kept walking.

"Ye-yes, I was wondering, but you don't have to answer."

Kurt thought that was odd, shouldn't Blaine be a bit more wary of the company he keeps? Kurt didn't know very much about actual battle or strategy, but one thing he thought he'd always known was to never trust easy. He'd actually been surprised when Blaine hadn't even bothered to bind his wrists. Maybe he was just letting his imagination get away with him.

"Fine, I won't."

The last thing he wanted to do was try to think of more lies. No, actually the last thing he wanted to do was tell this Blaine-guy his life's story.

...

Blaine couldn't help it, he knew it was wrong, he felt like he was somehow invading Kurt's privacy, but he just couldn't help it. Who could honestly expect him to look away when the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen lay sleeping just a few feet away from him. His auburn hair ruffled and falling into his face, twitching with each peaceful breath that escaped his slightly parted pink lips, his pale skin looked so smooth, Blaine wondered if he could get away with a touch, just a feather light brush across that deliciously rosy cheek, that's all he wanted, just one soft caress and then maybe he could get to sleep.

He lifted a hand hesitantly, inching it closer and closer through the cool night air, just millimeters and then he'd be touching that smooth, porcelain skin, just the fingertips, that's all, just feather light.

Breath hitched and blue eyes snapped open in a look of pure terror, the delicate boy sprung into a crouch and stumbled away.

"Sorry, sorry, I-I didn't..." Blaine mumbled, slowly drawing his outstretched hand back to his chest. Kurt's gaze stayed sharp, but his posture relaxed slightly. He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he found that he trusted Blaine (he attributed it to his gift), so he let himself shift into a more comfortable position.

"You haven't slept yet." It was a statement not a question and Blaine wasn't sure how to respond.

"No, umm, we should take shifts sleeping though. I'm pretty sure they won't be happy when they figure out that you're gone," he babbled, only realizing it was actually a good idea as he said it.

Kurt's gaze softened as he asked, "would you like me to take over now?"

"No, no," Blaine murmured, "you should definitely rest a bit more, I'll wake you if I need a break," Blaine lied. No way was he going to wake this angel again, he just wanted to stare at him all night, maybe hold his hand 'til the morning came and then, then he wanted to spend the rest of his life in his presence.

It was strange how he was drawn to this boy, but not unwelcome. He liked the fluttering feeling in his chest, he liked the way his heart swelled at the sight of the blue-eyed boy, he liked almost everything about the feeling. Everything except the strange new feeling that something was missing, something very much like the feeling of the boys smooth skin against his.

...

_No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white_

_Just our hands clasped so tight_

_Waiting for the hint of a spark_


End file.
